


A Dawn, Unmarked and Undone

by bleuetfane



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: canon divergent timeline, empire!wolffe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28020555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleuetfane/pseuds/bleuetfane
Summary: What if two brothers of Ahsoka Tano joined the Empire?
Comments: 4
Kudos: 15





	A Dawn, Unmarked and Undone

**Author's Note:**

> started writing, had a breakdown, bon appetite. 
> 
> no plot, just vibes. -very- canon and timeline divergent.

The rise of the Empire was quiet. Too quiet. So quiet, in fact, that the stillness of it was still ringing in his ears. He doesn’t remember much; just flashes so loud and bright he instinctively squints his eyes. The blue hologram delivering the order at his palm. The light of the blaster canon and fire lingering in the sky, long after the ship had crashed. The sinking feeling, somewhere deep in his stomach, of betrayal. He wasn’t sure if he was the betrayed or the one who betrayed. Maybe it was both.

Looking out of the pristine viewport of the Devastator, he couldn’t focus on the firm black curtain of the galaxy; there was only the echo of his likeness staring back at him. The polished uniform of an imperial officer; the blue and red of his rank insignia; and the violent white of his cybernetic eye - a reminder that there was a life before all this, that it was also cruel and unforgiving and hopeless, but it wasn’t lonely. 

A man made to be expendable - millions of brothers, all bearing the same face. He heard that every day when he was just a boy; you’re just like the others. Meant to be disposable, and replaceable. Then there came a period when he was shown otherwise, by a man that once meant something; now he knows that man was wrong. His existence wasn’t essential.  
A man with millions of brothers, all bearing the same face. He never thought he would be alone. He was alone now.

He had a name once. It had a meaning, and he carried it proudly. He wasn’t like all the others then; the privilege of individuality meant everything to the clones. He was one of the lucky ones, and he swore he’d never forget it.  
He forgot it now.

The black before him was slowly being replaced by a bright green of some forest moon - a rebel base, supposed hiding place of an enemy of the Empire. She meant something to him, once. 

Stepping onto the ship’s bridge now, walking towards a tall, dark being that carried with him ambience of death and darkness. He knew that man once.

Standing now side by side, at the helm of a ship that used to carry brave soldiers born to serve a Republic they never even saw, was a Jedi knight and a clone commander. They had names once.  
They didn’t anymore. 

The moon’s soil would soon carry two men that were once the enemy’s brothers. 

Anakin and Wolffe would soon meet someone they once knew.  
They didn’t anymore.

———

When he stepped onto the ground after landing on the moon’s surface, it seemed as if all the greenery had been scorched by some evil flame. It freaked him out the first two, three, five times he saw it happen - now it was just another thing he learned how to block out, the way everything seemed to darken and die whenever Vader appeared somewhere. If it wasn’t for the sound of his breathing, you would never hear him coming until it was too late. 

The moon of Yavin has been abandoned for millennia - that is, before the rebellion decided to use its ancient sites as a base. Ironic, he thought. A group so focused on spreading propaganda of compassion, yet they didn’t seem to care when they drilled holes for power equipment in the walls of stone aeons old. 

The air was hot and heavy, weighing on his chest like an oil barrel - mixed with the rotting ambience of the force spreading around his commander like an atom bomb, it was almost unbearable. He will learn to ignore that too. 

The site seemed to be abandoned - as was expected, yet he still felt unnerved between the stones of galaxy past - like something was watching him, expecting him, waiting for him to find it and kill it. That could be arranged, he smiled to himself. There wasn’t a creature in this universe that had yet to survive a meeting with his blaster.

———

As he left the temple to supervise the handling of rebel documents and equipment left behind in a hasty evacuation, man that was once known as Anakin Skywalker, the personification of hope and glory of youth was left alone, wandering the cold stone hallways. 

The further he walked, the colder it got, or maybe hotter, he wasn’t sure. The walls seemed to twist and close and spread around like a live thing - abandoned for millennia, the Sith force still lingered strong, for those able to feel it; and if anyone was to feel it, it would be him, wouldn’t it?

After a couple minutes, or maybe hours, but what seemed like years, he arrived at the temple’s heart - a room, low enough to scratch his helmet when he straightened up - with walls covered in ancient carvings of power, and war, and betrayal. Dimly lit, he could scarcely make out the shapes, or how big the room even was. But something was here, waiting. Something was here, waiting, waiting for him, a message, or maybe a warning. Maybe both. 

The fluttering of wings - echoed through the damp walls like an alarm, or maybe a welcome call. He followed the sound as it got louder, and the light more blinding, and the air hotter, until a vision, or a memory, or a nightmare, struck him like a wave - a little girl, walking off a ramp of a ship, with orange skin and eyes so fierce and daring for a moment he thought he saw himself. _But you might make it as mine. ___

__———_ _

__Alone in his chamber, back in the endless, unforgiving oblivion of space, Lord Darth Vader is staring out at the stars. Anakin Skywalker once wanted to visit them all._ _

__In his clenched fist, a green feather, standing out like a neon light against the cold back leather of his gloves. To everyone else, it was just that - a brightly coloured feather, a trinket allowed to be kept only by those at the top. To him, it was a wound knife-deep spilling blood thick and wide all around him, choking the last of his former self with its lightness._ _

__———  
_Approaching Malachor. _Leaving hyperspace in 5,4,3... ______


End file.
